


Ivy Potter and the Mirror of Erised

by BeaconHill



Series: Deathly Particles [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boy-Who-Lived Neville Longbottom, Female Harry Potter, Lily Evans Potter Lives, Professor Lily Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 06:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19901392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaconHill/pseuds/BeaconHill
Summary: After looking up at Hogwarts from her back yard in Hogsmeade for so, so long, Ivy Potter is finally going to Hogwarts! With her childhood friend Neville Longbottom, the Boy Who Lived, and Hermione Granger, the only girl she knows who loves books as much as she does, she's ready to take on her first year: help Neville study, ace the Potions class her mom teaches, and – if she listens to Uncle Sirius – get in lots and lots of trouble.Crossposted fromSpaceBattlesandSufficient Velocity.





	1. A Day In London

Ivy Potter walked down the middle of Diagon Alley, licking happily at a cone of Florean Fortescue's most delicious ice cream, and tried to figure out how she'd talk her mother into letting her go home.  
  
"So, are you enjoying your day in London?" Mum asked. Even in Diagon Alley, she stood out – her shining blue robes and her tall, broad-brimmed professor's hat made sure of it. "It's almost time to go..."  
  
"It was lovely, Mum, but..." She sighed, but tried to keep it a little less dramatic this time. She'd never forget that time Mum laughed at her. "I'm still not sure about this Hogwarts Express thing. The train will take hours, and... I mean, we _live_ in Hogsmeade! I can see Hogwarts from our back porch! Why not just bring me home like always? I can walk there, you know! We can even go together..."  
  
"Ivy, this was the deal," she said, a faint sparkle of amusement in her bright green eyes, almost the same as Ivy's own. "I take you to spend the day in London, and you go to Hogwarts on the Express instead of just walking. We talked about this."  
  
"We did, but... you also said we'd have lunch with Uncle Sirius, but he never showed up. Doesn't that mean the deal is off?"  
  
She sighed. "He said he wanted to see you before you started Hogwarts, but... Well, that's Sirius for you. He'll send you something nice to make up for it." There was something angry in her voice, and Ivy had the sneaking suspicion that Mum was going to send him a Howler. "The deal is _not_ off. You've known Sirius your whole life, you should be used to this. And... c'mon. I don't get any credit for taking you to Flourish and Blotts? I even bought you that freecasting book you wanted, though don't try that before you've had a chance to talk to Professor McGonagall."  
  
"I... do love the book," Ivy reluctantly admitted. "You know how long I've wanted it, and I'm really glad you bought it for me, but I'd be a lot more comfortable reading it at home..." Ivy looked down at her mum's empty hands, shocked realization dawning. "Wait. Mum, where did you put my book?"  
  
"I told you I was sending the bags back home, didn't I?"  
  
"But you said it would take hours to get back to Hogwarts! What am I supposed to do the whole time if I don't have anything to read?"  
  
"Talk to the other students, Ivy." There was a big smile on her face. "I met James and Sirius on the Hogwarts Express. I'm sure you'll find friends too."   
  
Ivy sighed. "Like _that's_ ever going to happen."  
  
"You want to bet on it?" The mischievous glint in her mother's eye made her cringe. She'd learned long ago that it was _never_ a good idea to make bets with her mother, no matter how sure she was. Too many weeks where she lost everything and couldn't go to Honeydukes. "I'll tell you what, Ivy. I'll sweeten the deal, just a little. Let's go somewhere a little quieter." She held out her hand, and Ivy took hold of it.  
  
One big unpleasant squishing sensation later, Ivy and her mother were standing on a quiet Muggle city street. Mum pulled out her wand and cast a few spells that left what looked almost like a heat haze hanging in the air around them. Privacy spells. She recognized one – a Muggle-Repelling Charm – but the rest were beyond her. "What are you doing?" Ivy asked, eyeing them nervously.  
  
"There's something I'd like to give you."  
  
"Uh... Okay. What is it?"  
  
Mum didn't say a word. But from her bag, she pulled a folded cloth, shining and shimmering in the light. Ivy didn't recognize it on sight, but it was clearly magical... and, she _had_ heard family stories, but could this really— "Yes," Mum said, as though she'd been watching the gears turn in Ivy's head. "This is your father's invisibility cloak. It's yours."  
  
Ivy's mouth fell open, so wide it took her a few seconds to start filling it with words. "Oh my god, thank you, thank you, _thank you_! I can't believe it, I didn't think you'd ever give that to me, thank you _so much_..." She stopped, and then looked back at her mother with suspicion. "Why now? There has to be a catch."  
  
"No catch. James's father gave this to him right before he got on the Express, his Hogwarts present. He always wanted to do the same for you. I told him no way, but..." She smiled at Ivy, in that sad way she always did when she talked about Ivy's father. "If you use this for pranks, mischief, or _anything_ your father ever did with it, I'll have you scrubbing cauldrons from now until Christmas."  
  
"But what if Uncle Sirius says it's okay?" The words were light, teasing. Mum had already been very clear on this particular subject: Sirius Black was not a role model.  
  
"Then it's double detention, Miss Potter." There was a professorly glint in her eyes, and Ivy knew she'd really do it. "I assume you want me to bring this to Hogwarts with your other things? You won't need it on the train."  
  
"Oh?" Ivy asked. "I think this might be just what I need, if you won't let me have a book for the ride. I'll just be invisible the whole time, so no one tries to talk to me!"  
  
"I'm bringing it to Hogwarts," she said, snatching it away. "It'll be in your trunk."  
  
"You give me Dad's invisibility cloak, and then immediately take it away? This deal just keeps getting worse." Ivy's voice was still light and happy. She was just kidding – she really did love the gift, and even she didn't really want to spend the whole train ride invisible. "Next you're going to tell me I'm not allowed to bring my _brain_ to Hogwarts."  
  
"Oh, no. You'll flunk Potions without that," Mum said in her very driest deadpan. She checked her watch, a very traditional-looking gold one with stars and planets. "Well, it's almost time for the train. Let's go."  
  
Mum dismissed her spells, and walked off down the Muggle street, Ivy following nervously. They turned the corner, and she saw it: a huge building of dirty-looking yellow brick with big windows. They kept walking, across the street and through a dirty entranceway cluttered with ticket booths, and then straight into a huge room full of Muggles, at least a little bit impressive with its high glass ceiling, but so packed she was afraid of being stepped on. Mum led Ivy through it, fearlessly navigating through the station, but gripping her hand just as tightly as she had for the Apparition.  
  
"Where are we going?" Ivy asked. Her head was constantly turning left and right as they walked through Kings Cross station. She knew what a train station _was_ , but... it was crowded and dirty and horrible here, and the trains looked _way_ less cool than the ones she'd read about. Muggles really traveled this way? She only looked forward too late – as Mum strode vigorously toward a pillar, Ivy's hand crushed in her iron grip. "Mum!" Ivy said as she tried to wriggle away. "That's a brick—"  
  
They passed straight through it, entering a hidden platform thronging with witches and wizards.  
  
Ivy sighed, shook her head. "Not funny, Mum."  
  
"I disagree." There was a twinkle in Mum's eyes, but Ivy was annoyed. At her, obviously, but also... Really, why were so many Wizarding places like this? It's not as if _everyone_ was like her mother. She supposed they had to keep the Muggles out somehow, but...  
  
That was when she saw the train. A _real_ train, not like the ones in the Muggle part of the station, a proper steam-engine thing like right out of her stories, with cool old carriages stretching back as far as the eye could see. "Wow," she whispered. She might be stuck on this train with no books, but at least she'd be traveling in style.  
  
"Told you it'd impress you," her mother said, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go.  
  
Ivy ignored that. "Is Neville here yet?" she asked, her eyes scanning the crowd. "It'd be nice to... oh, right." She didn't see Neville, but she did see his grandma's ridiculous hat, towering at the center of a big crowd of people. "I... guess people wanted to talk to him. You sure you don't want to give me my invisibility cloak back? I can lend it to him."  
  
"It's a nice thought, but that won't really work. He can't stay under that cloak forever." Mum sighed. "No, I'll be keeping that. Better for him to get this over with now."  
  
"I guess." Ivy shrugged. "Still, I bet Neville wishes he were the boy who died now! You know, instead of—"  
  
"I get it," Mum said, looking a bit forlornly into the crowd. "The Boy Who Lived. Well, I'm sure you'll find him soon, and..." Her voice caught in her throat for just a second. "I should leave – I have some preparation to do before the year starts. Besides, it's time for you to set off on your Hogwarts adventure." She hugged Ivy, lifting her up into the air. "I'll miss you, even though I'll be there when the train reaches Hogwarts." She set Ivy back down on the ground and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll let you go now."  
  
"Bye, Mum!" Ivy said. "I love you!"  
  
"I love you too," Mum said. Ivy thought there were tears in her eyes, but she smiled before Apparating away. There was a loud _crack_ , and then she was gone.  
  
And, after a few moments, Ivy straightened her robes and headed for the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was beta read by GlassGirlCeci, who receives a book on freecasting and a cone of ice cream.


	2. Crossed Paths

Ivy cringed, just a little, as she walked through the moving train.  
  
She'd tried to find an empty compartment, somewhere she could be alone. She hadn't found one. Rowdy upperclassmen, kids with sour expressions or mean glares or ones even fatter than her cousin... no, she definitely hadn't found anywhere she wanted to sit...  
  
Ivy peered through the window of yet another compartment with more than a little resignation. Sitting there was a girl who looked about her age, a book open on her lap and her wand out and raised, practicing spells Ivy recognized as simple first-year Charms.  
  
... So maybe it wasn't _empty_ , but Ivy had to get along with anyone else who'd read on the train, right?  
  
She slid the door open and stepped into the compartment, sitting next to the girl. Ivy knew how to introduce herself, right? She hoped? "Hi!" she said. "I'm Ivy Potter, I'm a first year—"  
  
"Eep!" The girl jerked a little, her wand firing off a bolt that gave the opposite seat pink polka dots. After a quick spell ( _Colovaria_ , another first-year one) it went back to normal, and she turned to Ivy. "Hi! Sorry, you startled me a little... I'm Hermione Granger." She looked over a little nervously. Hermione had bushy brown hair and somewhat unfortunate teeth – Ivy figured she had to be Muggleborn, any wizarding child would have had those shrunk by now. "I'm a first-year too. Do you know what House you'll be in? I've been hoping for Gryffindor, but Ravenclaw might be nice too..."  
  
"Probably Ravenclaw, maybe Gryffindor." Ivy leaned back in the seat. This, at least, was a conversation she knew how to have. Everyone asked first-years about their House. "My mum and dad were both in Gryffindor, but Mum's a professor and they say professors' daughters always end up in Ravenclaw..." She shrugged. "I think Ravenclaw makes more sense, anyway. Gryffindors aren't so big on the books."  
  
Something lit up in Hermione's eyes. "Your mum's really a professor? That's so cool!"  
  
"She is!" Ivy smiled. "She's Professor Potter, the Potions master."  
  
"That sounds so nice... My parents are Muggles, so I never knew anything about magic or Hogwarts before I got my letter." She looked to her book nervously. "I've learned all the class books by heart, I just hope I can catch up to the rest of you..."  
  
The compartment door slid open again, an overwhelmed-looking Neville Longbottom collapsing onto the opposite bench. The boy was apparently still living after getting trapped in that crowd. His hair was cut so short he couldn't hide his scar, a big jagged X-mark just over his right eye. Ivy winced in sympathy. Who'd thought that was a good idea?  
  
"Ivy, thank god," Neville moaned. "It's been horrible..." His eyes finally lit on Hermione. "Who's she?"  
  
"Hermione Granger," I said. "We met here on the train. Hermione, this is Neville Longbottom."  
  
"Neville... Are you really Neville Longbottom?" Ivy groaned on the inside as Hermione's eyes widened, and Neville cringed back into the seat cushion. "I read about you! You're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise_ —"  
  
Ivy put her hand on Hermione's shoulder, trying her best imitation of Mum's glare. "Yes, he is, and everyone's been pestering him since he set foot on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Let him relax? Please? You can see how exhausted he looks..."  
  
"Oh. Sorry, Neville," Hermione said, looking very much like she'd swallowed a whole book's worth of words. "Ivy, how did you meet him?"  
  
"I've known him since we were little. Our parents fought together in the war." _Which is why only one parent's still alive between the two of us._ "So how bad was it, Nev?"  
  
"The worst. Everyone wanted to see my scar, and ask about my dead parents. People kept crowding me, getting so close I could barely breathe. Most of the people were nice, but Lucius Malfoy's son seemed to think I'm some kind of Dark Arts prodigy. And I lost Trevor. And we're not even to Hogwarts yet." Neville sighed, looking mournfully up at the ceiling. "I can't do this. I should have been homeschooled."  
  
"Nev, you'll be fine, I promise," Ivy said. "I'll be there, my mum will be there, and... I know you're overwhelmed, but most people really do want to help. And don't worry about Trevor. A Summoning Charm will have him back soon enough."  
  
"You can already cast that?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening  
  
Ivy smiled sheepishly. "No, not yet, but I can always find a prefect or something. I'll be back in a second."  
  
She stepped out, slamming the compartment door behind her. It didn't take her long to find a prefect, and like she expected, she got Trevor back, no problem. But when she returned to the compartment, there was another person inside, a boy with hair almost as red as her mum's who seemed to be clinging to a horrified Neville like a barnacle.  
  
"Here's your toad, Nev," Ivy said, handing it over. Seemed a little bewildered, but none the worse for wear. Maybe it'd be scared out of escaping, but Ivy wasn't counting on it, considering Neville. "Who're you?" she asked, turning to the red-haired kid.   
  
"I'm Ron Weasley," he said, trying to puff out his chest. There was a big splotch of dirt on his nose, Ivy couldn't help but notice. "You?"  
  
"Ivy Potter," she said, trying to figure out how to shoo Ron out without being too horrible. "I'm one of Neville's friends, I think he'd rather be alone—"  
  
"Hey, I wasn't doing anything!" Ron's voice was squeaky and whiny. "I was just talking. Right, Neville?"  
  
"Err, well..." Neville looked to Ron and then trembled a little. "At least he's being nice to me?"  
  
"Nev..." She sighed. He'd always been like this. He really needed to grow some more backbone, or he'd be miserable the whole year. She turned back to Hermione, curious if she could borrow a book, but before she could—  
  
"You're really Ivy Potter?" Ron blurted. "My brothers all say your mum's the toughest professor at Hogwarts! Maybe she'll go easy on our year, we're so lucky..."  
  
"Not likely," Ivy said with a grin. "Mum's gonna push me harder than anyone. You'll be lucky if you're not in my class. You did read the textbook, though, didn't you?"  
  
Ron looked distinctly flummoxed. "Errrr—"  
  
"Well, you can't expect to pass Potions if you haven't read the book, can you?" Hermione said. They shared a knowing glance.  
  
He groaned. "It's not like I'm going to be a Ravenclaw, okay? Give me a break..."  
  
"What House will you be in, then?" squeaked Neville, happy for any conversation not about him.  
  
"I've got to be in Gryffindor, both my parents were in it, and so were all my brothers." Ron scooted a bit closer to a freaked-looking Neville. "You've got to be in Gryffindor too, haven't you? You know, the Boy who Lived and all?"  
  
"I'll be in Ravenclaw," Ivy said, the words dismissive.  
  
"Definitely Ravenclaw," Hermione agreed, and Ivy glanced over at her with a smirk. Looked like they were thinking the same thing: if that kid's really Gryffindor material, then I'm not interested.   
  
That turned into arguing about the House Cup, mostly between Ivy and Ron since Hermione was a Muggleborn and Neville never liked to get into arguments. No one else came into their compartment, perhaps helped by Neville hiding under his robes whenever anyone walked by outside. Ivy and Hermione chatted over the Charms book, trying out spells they really weren't ready for while Neville and Ron watched in disbelief. They all ate a whole pile of food off the trolley – Trevor crawled into an empty Chocolate Frog wrapper, and none of them could find him until they were almost to Hogsmeade. The train ride really did take hours, but it went by faster than they expected.  
  
"We will be reaching Hogsmeade Station in five minutes' time," said an echoey disembodied voice. "Please leave your luggage on the train. It will be brought to you shortly."  
  
"Why are you on the Express, anyway?" Neville asked. "You live in Hogsmeade, can't you just walk?"  
  
Ivy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know. But _Mum_ thought I'd meet people on the Hogwarts Express." Which, she sourly noted, did actually happen. Ivy silently vowed never to tell her about this. "At least she didn't make me carry my trunk?"  
  
The train squealed to a stop. Ivy'd heard it from home, a couple times a year. She and Hermione and Neville all joined the crowd to get off the train, emerging onto the equally packed Hogsmeade station platform. She could hear Hagrid the gamekeeper calling for the first years, but she ignored him. Instead, Ivy pushed through until she was standing right at the fence, looking down the hill over her hometown. It was dark, the landmarks of her life only visible in silhouette, or by the glow of streetlights and windows. She snorted. "I can see my house from here."  
  
"Where is it?" Hermione asked, standing by Ivy's side.  
  
"It's the little stone cottage with the blue lantern, down there." Ivy pointed, and Hermione followed the gaze.  
  
"The one with the crazy garden?" Hermione asked.  
  
Ivy giggled. "Yup! Pomo— er, Professor Sprout helped Mum find plants for it, and, er..." She could only barely see the glowing plants from out here. The ghost weed was her favorite. "I really love our garden. I'll show it to you if you ever visit Hogsmeade."  
  
"I'd like that," Hermione said with a smile.  
  
Then they turned toward Hogwarts. Hagrid led them all down the winding path to the lakeside, one Ivy had been down many, many times. So when they turned a corner, Ivy was one of the few to not be surprised at the great glowing castle of Hogwarts, its reflection twinkling in the pitch-black lake.  
  
Hogwarts had loomed overhead her entire life. Mum told her stories about her students, and Uncle Sirius about all the mischief he and her dad had gotten up to there. Mum had brought her there a few times, to visit her dungeons or eat at the staff picnic. She'd snuck in, finding secret passages or climbing over the gate. She'd say she was used to Hogwarts, certainly more so than most first years. But that didn't mean that her heart wasn't soaring.  
  
Today, she would finally, _finally_ become a student.  
  
And it gave Ivy a warm, tingly feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was beta read by Adept Arcanist and GlassGirlCeci. They receive Chocolate Frogs. Mmm...


	3. House Spirit

"RAVENCLAW!" howled the Sorting Hat.  
  
Ivy smiled and stood up, handing the Hat to a boy named Dean Thomas before running toward the Ravenclaw table where everyone was applauding. Her gaze turned to the Head Table, where Mum was beaming at her. Minerva was smiling and looking her way, even as she ran the Sorting. And Pomona and Septima were clapping, and Quirinus – he'd gotten a professor hat like her mum's, she thought it looked good on him even if it was a little droopy – and she saw Flitwick too, and Sinistra, and even Dumbledore! She didn't know all of the professors very well, but they all seemed happy for her.  
  
A prefect shook her hand, loudly congratulating her. Ivy nodded and smiled, then slid into the seat next to Hermione, who smiled at her with sparkling eyes. "I would have been mad if you hadn't come to Ravenclaw with me," Hermione said.  
  
"I would have been mad too!" Ivy looked over her shoulder – Neville was sitting at the Gryffindor table, looking even more overwhelmed than he had on the train. The other students were all badgering him. Poor Nev. Ivy turned back to the Ravenclaw table with a smile. "This is where I belong."  
  
Ivy sat there for just a second, a smile on her face – and then she jerked back, squeaking slightly. Something had touched her under the table, and— oh!  
  
"Pointy!" Ivy said, smiling as she saw her cat's familiar black fur and green eyes underneath the table, much like Ivy's own. She jumped up onto Ivy's lap and gently headbutted her. Ivy started to scratch her behind the ears. "How'd you know I was going to get sorted into Ravenclaw?"  
  
"I guess it was really that obvious," said Hermione.   
  
"Why's your cat named Pointy?" asked another first-year. Terry? Tommy? Ivy wasn't certain – the Sorting had been a blur of names to her.  
  
"Uh, well, she's actually named Poinsettia, but that's kind of hard to say, and..." Ivy had a few seconds' reprieve as someone else was sorted Ravenclaw and they all applauded. "Actually, it's kind of a stupid name, but I've had her since I was little, and... well, she's Pointy now."  
  
Ivy looked back to the Sorting to avoid questions, just in time to watch Ron get sent to Gryffindor. Poor Neville. Things were just getting worse and worse for him, weren't they?  
  
There was just one more student left after him, and then a few words from Professor Dumbledore, before the table was suddenly overflowed with food. Ivy couldn't wait – she hadn't eaten since the snacks on the train! She dug in with gusto. Everything was amazing, even better than at the staff picnic – a real feast! Ivy figured the house elves went all-out for the first day of school.  
  
Pointy jumped up onto the table, eating the occasional sausage or bit of bacon Ivy gave her. Looked like there was a spell on it all – Pointy couldn't eat off the plates or off the platters the way Ivy was sure she wanted to. Ivy chatted with her housemates, with the occasional students visiting from other tables, and of course with Hermione, until the hour was late and even Ivy was almost full. Surely they'd have to go to Ravenclaw Tower soon...  
  
"Hey, you," called a male voice. Ivy spun around in her seat, only to see two older Gryffindor boys standing there looking sort of dopey, like they wanted to look intimidating but fell short. "You're Professor Potter's daughter, right?"  
  
"Yeah, I am," Ivy said. The one who was talking had brown hair that stuck up off his head, the one behind had matted black hair and looked distinctly uncomfortable. "What of it?"  
  
"So maybe you can get her to go a little easier on us? You know, now that you're a student and all?"  
  
Ivy snorted, giving the both of them a harsh glare. She'd heard more than enough stories about bad students to know how to react. "She wouldn't lower her standards, even for me. But maybe if you whined a little less, you'd have time to study. Go away."  
  
"Look. You're a student now." His voice had lowered to what he probably thought was a growl. "All I'm saying is, if your mom keeps being so hard on people, _some of us_ might take it out on you. Get it?"  
  
"Are you really trying to _intimidate_ me?" Ivy's expression was more of disbelief than anything. "Nice try, but you're worse at this than you are at Potions. Slytherin table's over that way if you want lessons." Ivy pointed behind her with a hooked thumb.  
  
"Listen, firstie, you can't just—"  
  
"We should go," said the Gryffindor with black hair, sounding a little staggered. He shot a furtive glance at the prefect, who'd started looking this way. "Her glare looks just like Professor Potter's, and it's creeping me out..."  
  
She actually laughed as they scurried away. She caught the prefect's eye, and then her mum's. Yup, they both saw the whole thing. Ivy was so glad she hadn't been Sorted into Gryffindor. What morons.  
  
~~  
  
Ivy groaned as she trudged up Ravenclaw Tower's zillions of stairs. She'd never climbed up so many in her life, and it ached. And it was a _spiral_ staircase, and she was getting dizzy. Maybe Gryffindor would have been better after all? But, no, they had a tower too... and she definitely didn't want to be a Hufflepuff or a Slytherin, even if it did mean she wouldn't have to climb so many stairs.  
  
Finally, the stairs ended, and the first-years all collected in a small antechamber, before a huge, solid-looking wooden door. It had no doorknob or keyhole, just a big, bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle.  
  
The prefect – John Brock, a fifth-year – turned back to the first-years. "Other doors at Hogwarts have passwords or codes, but to get into the Ravenclaw common room, you must solve a riddle." He raised his hand and knocked once, loud and echoing. The eagle smiled and in a soft, musical voice began to speak:  
  
 _Full of jealous longing,  
the other Houses three:   
Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin,  
each gets a door like me.  
  
The Slytherin door always lies,  
and Hufflepuff is true  
But Gryffindor is wily  
and might play tricks on you.  
  
Alas! A first-year's lost his toad  
You'd like to send it home  
But its owner could be anywhere  
So through the halls you roam  
  
Not I, for I am Hufflepuff!  
Says the first door that you knock.  
I know not where this toad belongs.  
I hope it finds its flock.  
  
Not I, for I am Gryffindor!  
Swelled-headed, worthless swine!  
This toad belongs in Hufflepuff,  
Or Slytherin, ain't that fine?  
  
Not I, for I am Slytherin!  
Full of slimy, sleazy gits!  
This toad belongs in Ravenclaw,  
don't you remember it?  
  
We doors might seem unfriendly,  
But opening's what we do.  
So if you pick the right one,  
It will let that lost toad through.  
  
But no door can resist the chance  
To laugh at some poor fool.  
So get it right, or you might be  
The joke of the whole school!_  
  
They all stood dumbstruck for just a moment, even the prefect. A singing, rhyming doorknocker? That made _logic puzzles_? Ivy really was impressed. "Well?" the eagle asked.  
  
"Er... not sure, actually. These big puzzles always get me." The prefect looked back to us first years, a sheepish grin on his face. "Any of you have ideas?"  
  
Ivy started trying to work out the answer, but before she could—  
  
"It's the door that says it's Slytherin!" Hermione said, a big smile on her face. Ivy smiled back at her. That was _fast_ , Hermione!  
  
"Why?" asked the eagle, a glimmer in her eye.  
  
"Well, that one has to be Gryffindor, since neither Slytherin nor Hufflepuff could say they were Slytherin," Hermione said. "Which means the door that said it was Gryffindor has to be Slytherin. But it said the toad belonged in Hufflepuff or Slytherin, and it always lies, so the toad has to belong in Gryffindor!" Heh, of course the toad's from Gryffindor. Poor Neville. It was only his first day and even the doors were making fun of him.  
  
"But what if the toad belongs in Ravenclaw?" asked a girl named Padma Patil.  
  
"Er..." Hermione shot a nervous glance at Ivy. "I mean..."  
  
"We'd know if a Ravenclaw was missing a toad, wouldn't we?" Ivy said.  
  
"Well put." The door swung open. "Welcome to Ravenclaw!"  
  
"Don't forget," yelled the prefect over the din, "it's okay to get confused sometimes! Don't be ashamed to ask for help! The door stumps everyone!" The prefect's call was increasingly frantic as they all stepped into their new common room. When Ivy saw the bookshelves, she ran without looking back.  
  
~~  
  
"Ivy, you're really _skipping_ down the hall?" asked Hermione. There was a gentle smile spread on her face, curling up the corners of her lips.   
  
"Of course I am!" Ivy said, turning a skip into a weird little hop-twirl thing. "I've been waiting all _week_ for this! It's finally time for Potions! I've wanted to take Mum's class since I was a little girl."  
  
"I'm happy for you," Hermione said. "But I wish it weren't down in the dungeons." Hermione sighed. "You know, I can't believe Hogwarts really _has_ dungeons. It sounds like a Muggle joke! Why would we teach Potions down there, anyway? It's so cold..."  
  
"I _like_ it down here." Sure, maybe there was no sunlight, but the hallways were wide and uncrowded, the air cool and pleasant against her skin. "Mum said this is why Potions class is in the dungeons – since it's cooler, a lot of magical ingredients are a little stabler, and potion brewing is a little safer. Things take longer to explode. That's a good reason, right?"  
  
"I guess." Hermione said.  
  
Ivy walked down the hall for a while, side by side with Hermione, until—  
  
"Wait just a second," called a girl's voice, one she didn't recognize. "You're Professor Potter's daughter, aren't you?"  
  
Ivy groaned. _Again?_ After those Gryffindor boys, she wasn't looking forward to this. She turned around – only to see the Ravenclaw ghost, the Grey Lady, floating there. Ivy froze. She wasn't sure how to talk to a ghost. "I... Yes, I am. Why do you ask?"  
  
The Grey Lady looked nervous, eyeing Hermione, then the other students in the hallway. "I'd like to talk alone. Can we go somewhere quieter?" She motioned to the empty side hallway behind her.  
  
"Okay, I guess," Ivy said, but before she could go, Hermione tugged on her sleeve.  
  
"Er..." Hermione was almost as pale as the Grey Lady as she whispered in Ivy's ear. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"  
  
"I'll be fine. The Grey Lady is nice enough, and I have time. Go on, I'll catch up with you." Hermione let go, and then Ivy followed the Grey Lady into the darkened hallways. They walked around a bend, and there was no one in sight. The Grey Lady stopped, and looked her over for a few seconds.  
  
"Ivy... I know it can be hard to be a professor's daughter. Do you think you're ready?" The Gray Lady's voice was soft, her gaze not quite meeting Ivy's eyes. She didn't know what she expected, but... certainly not this. The Grey Lady had been aloof before, so Ivy never would have expected to be comforted. "If you're feeling pressured, or if you think you have too much to live up to..."   
  
"I'm ready," Ivy said, looking at her with wide eyes. "I love my mom. And I... I think I can keep up with her! I want to try! And I'm... not scared to fail sometimes. I'll be fine."  
  
"Okay." She hesitated, her gaze flickering down to the floor for just a second. "I hope you'll always feel that way. But please remember, Ivy, I'm here to talk if you ever need it."  
  
"I will. Thank you, uh—"  
  
"Helena," she said, a slightly sad smile playing across her lips. "But don't tell anyone my name, please."  
  
"Thank you, Helena," Ivy said, smiling back at the Ravenclaw ghost. "I need to get to class now, though. Goodbye!"  
  
"Goodbye, Ivy," said the Grey Lady, staying behind as Ivy ran through the halls and into her mother's dungeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was beta read by GlassGirlCeci and Adept Arcanist, who receive a delicious feast.


	4. The Potions Master

The walls were lined with jars: shining powders, nasty-looking goos, leaves and berries, and even animals, floating whole in Preservation Potions. They were a little creepy if you weren't used to them, but they were there for good reasons: they were potion ingredients and this was a handy place to put them, and apparently scaring students made them pay more attention – an important advantage, since Potions was neck-and-neck every year with Herbology for most classroom accidents.  
  
Ivy sat down next to Hermione at one of the two-person tables scattered around the room. In Potions, students usually worked with a partner, so Ivy was thankful she had Hermione there. She didn't think it'd be very fun, working with someone who wasn't as clever as they were. This class was Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, so Ivy would be able to help Neville out, too. She looked over to where Neville was sitting, and he looked _nervous,_ even by Neville standards. And he was saddled with Ron. Poor Neville.  
  
The office door swung open with a creak, and her mum - _Professor Potter_ , Ivy had to start practicing that now or she'd never be able to get it right - strode into the classroom. She wore billowing black robes, her pointiest hat, and a glare that would have scared Ivy if only she hadn't grown up with her. Mum really did like scaring students, didn't she?  
  
"Good morning, class," she said, stepping up to the podium, and the whole room fell silent. "For those of you who have come to learn: congratulations, and welcome to Potions. I love this discipline, and I hope to share it with you over your years at Hogwarts. For those of you who are less convinced..." Her voice trailed off with a barbed silence. "Perhaps your parents don't brew potions" — Ivy snorted, and Mum tried to frown, but the sparkle in her eye told Ivy that she too was amused — "perhaps you've already been entranced by another professor's class, or perhaps you're obsessed with that lovely new wand of yours." Mum scoffed. "Intricate potions can be brewed for hours, days, or even months while requiring no skills beyond a first-year ability to follow the instructions. To use a charm of the same power? Impossible for a first year. This class has the most complex and powerful magic you are able to use."  
  
The class was now paying rapt attention. Good job, Mum. Pomona didn't do anything like this.  
  
"This is also the most dangerous first-year class. Your timing must be precise, you must be able to assess smells, textures, temperatures, and color changes, you must be able to accurately measure and prepare potion ingredients, and you must be able to follow the instructions to the letter. If you cannot do this you will blow up or melt your cauldron, potentially injuring yourself or your fellow students. Don't try any ideas of your own. You will learn how to alter a potion, but not today. Finally, keep your hair tied back – there is a spell for it in your textbook, and a regular hairband will suffice as well – and no horseplay until everyone is done brewing their potions. Is that understood?"  
  
"Yes, Professor," chorused the students, Ivy along with them.  
  
"Good." Mum smirked. "I've had no serious injuries in my class in nine years. I do not want you spoiling my record."  
  
The class seemed more than a little scared at this point. Neville was actually trembling, which Ivy thought was silly. He really ought to know Mum better than that.  
  
Mum sighed, and continued in a much lighter tone. "I am here to help you. Nevertheless, there are sixteen people in this classroom. I cannot watch every detail of every potion brewed. So if something seems wrong to you, speak up as soon as you can, don't wait for me to notice."  
  
Another Ravenclaw girl – her name was Lisa, Ivy thought – raised her hand. "Will we lose credit if we make a mistake and ask for help?" she blurted, without waiting to be called on.  
  
"Of course you will," Mum said, in her most 'are you kidding me' tone of voice. "But you won't have to visit Madam Pomfrey. Even if no one gets hurt, I'll take double points if I notice a mistake before you do, and if you cannot fix the potion before the end of class you will get a zero."  
  
The class sat there, silently staring at her, cowed into submission.  
  
"Not that I expect this to be a problem." Mum sighed. "Today you will be brewing the easiest potion in your textbook, the Itch-Soothing Solution. If you follow the instructions as written, I expect that you'll produce an acceptable result." Her tone had lightened again. "Split into groups of two. There are sixteen of you in class, so no one should be left out. Remember to _ask me questions_ if you're uncertain of anything." She waved her wand, and ingredients appeared on the tables. "This is everything you need. You have until the end of class. Go!"  
  
Everyone started to chatter as they opened their textbooks, or started preparing their cauldrons or their ingredients. Ivy looked at Hermione in the seat next to her. "You want to work together?"  
  
"Of course," Hermione said, and they shared a warm smile. They got their books out and flipped to the potion – it was right in the front.  
  
Ivy pointed her wand at her own head, and then waved it around in a little flourish. " _Acuso!_ " she said, and her messy black curls pulled themselves into a tight bun, no hairs escaping. Hermione's hands froze, midway through slipping a rubber band into her own bushy brown hair, and she looked at Ivy with poorly-disguised envy. "It's in the back of the book," Ivy said. "You couldn't cast it?"  
  
"No." Hermione shook her head. "Couldn't get the backwards wand movement."  
  
"Mum taught it to me ages ago," Ivy said. "There's a trick to it, but it's easy once you've got it – I'll help you with it after class if you want?"  
  
"Thanks, but..." A sheepish smile came over Hermione's face. "For now, could you just cast it on me, please?"  
  
"Sure, no problem!" Ivy cast the spell, smiling just a little as Hermione's hair sorted itself into a bun. "Ingredients?"  
  
"Ingredients," Hermione agreed, smiling as she ran her hand over her hair.  
  
They split the ingredients up and started preparing them, Ivy using a quick Wiping Charm on the cutting board in between ingredients. It wouldn't really be necessary with a potion this harmless, but Mum always said it was better to learn good habits early. After a few times, Hermione started copying her, and between the two of them they had perfect, clean ingredients done in record time. Ivy and Hermione worked together smoothly, coordinating almost wordlessly who would do what. They did each correct each other a few times, but Ivy was pleased to see that Hermione seemed to be a natural. The class wasn't even half over when they'd turned down the burner, and a silvery liquid lay still and calm in their cauldron.  
  
For just a moment, Ivy stood there, satisfied. First in the class, just like she always wanted. And no one else was even _close_. Even her fellow Ravenclaws weren't anywhere near finishing – she could tell they were working a lot harder than the Gryffindors, but they just didn't seem as natural at it as she and Hermione were. Then she raised her hand. "Mum?" she said. "We're finished."  
  
"Call me Professor," Mum reminded her with a sigh. Some of the other students stared or giggled, but Mum silenced them with a glare.  
  
"Oh! Sorry, er, Professor Potter. But we really are finished."  
  
"Already? Are you sure you didn't miss anything? I do expect first-years to be a little slower, and rushing can cause mistakes—" Her voice cut off abruptly as she arrived at Ivy and Hermione's cauldron. "But this does look correct." She produced a crystal vial from nowhere, scooped up a sample, and then cast a few analytic spells on it. "Perfect," she said. "Congratulations. Full marks for the both of you, and you may keep samples of the potion if you like. Would you like to brew a second potion? I can give extra credit, or—"  
  
Then they both turned their heads as a loud fizzing sound echoed through the room. Mum reacted before Ivy could even see it – with a flick of her wand, the sound stopped, and Neville and Ron's cauldron stood empty, and a little melted around the edges.  
  
Ivy just stared for a few moments, before asking in a small, quiet voice, "Mum, can I help Neville instead?"  
  
"Yes, I'll allow that. I do offer extra credit for helping fellow students, both in class and in tutoring sessions." Mum scowled just a little. "And it's still Professor Potter."  
  
"Sorry, Professor!" Ivy chirped.  
  
Mum turned to Hermione. "Might you be interested in helping Mr. Weasley?" she asked.  
  
"Okay, Professor," Hermione said, but she was frowning, disappointed.  
  
"But I don't need help!" yelled Ron, his face turning red. "Neville was the one who—"  
  
"Yes, you do," Mum said, a faintly mocking undertone to it that made some of the others giggle. Ron was earning more than a few dirty looks from the other Gryffindors – guess it didn't look good to blame the Boy who Lived. "Especially if you're to finish by the end of class." She waved her wand, and fresh ingredients appeared at both Neville's table and at Ivy's, and Neville's cauldron was whole and unmelted once more. "Get working!"   
  
Ivy joined Neville at his table, started to look through their ingredients. The other students were still whispering – the class consensus was to blame Ron, but still, more than a few people were surprised by the Boy who Lived messing up so bad. "Nev, what's wrong?" Ivy's voice was quietly pleading as she looked across the table at Neville. She gingerly passed him the easy ingredients – his hands were shaking so badly Ivy wasn't sure he could even hold a potions knife. "It's Mum's class, you don't have to be so scared. You've known her all your life!"  
  
"I... I know, I just..." His voice lowered to a whisper. "Ivy, I think I'm sick. I can't focus, can't work... I've got headaches _all_ the time. I know I shouldn't be afraid, but... I am. I'm sorry."  
  
Ivy was chopping the roots in record time, and Neville was doing fine preparing the needles. "You sure it's not just nerves again?" That's what it had been last time.  
  
"I..." Neville seemed not to be sure enough of himself to even deny it properly. "I know that's what it was last time... but I really mean it this time! And... my _scar_ is hurting. It never did before. Like... something hot, stroking it. It's giving me bad dreams." As his story distracted him, he seemed to be getting better at his ingredients. Ivy cast a Wiping Charm for him before he got started on the next. "I... really think I should tell someone."  
  
Ivy shrugged. "No reason not to. Madam Pomfrey could give you something for the headaches at least. Or... if you think it really is from your scar... you probably shouldn't go straight to Dumbledore, but you can ask a professor? Mum, or... I guess Minerva's your head of house, she might—"  
  
Neville squeaked and almost dropped his leek.  
  
"What's wrong now?" Ivy frowned. "Your scar's not hurting again, is it?"  
  
" _You called her Minerva_?!" Neville hissed, his head darting back and forth to make sure no one had heard. "Have you had her class yet? She... she's _scary_!"  
  
Ivy snorted. "She's had dinner with us a few times a month since I was two, I _promise_ she's not really that scary. She's like Mum, she thinks it makes the class pay more attention." She sighed, pausing for just a second before Wiping away the juices of her last ingredient. She was pleased to see that Neville looked done, too, his ingredients prepared surprisingly well. "And I can't _wait_ to start Transfiguration. You ready?"  
  
Neville hesitated. "Uh... you'll tell me what to do, right? And... maybe you can handle the hard parts, or—"  
  
"Of course, Nev." Ivy lit the burner, and started to brew.  
  
It wasn't as smooth as it was working with Hermione, obviously, but Neville was trying really hard, and he was a fine assistant even if he wasn't doing most of the tricky stuff. It actually went a little quicker than before, since Ivy now had experience with the potion. They finished just before the class ended, Mum smiling at the both of them. Ron and Hermione weren't doing so well, though...  
  
Ivy waited outside for her – Mum let her classes stay a few extra minutes if they were almost done, though no one else had needed the time – and, after a few minutes, Ron stormed past her, a sullen look on his face. Hermione followed a few minutes later, looking grumpy.  
  
"I can't believe you stuck me with Ron!" Hermione said, though she didn't actually seem mad. Well, not at _Ivy_ , anyway. "He didn't listen to anything I said, he nearly melted our cauldron _three times_ , and his ingredients were all horrible! I'm surprised we finished at all."  
  
"Sorry, I just wanted to help Neville," Ivy said. "He was nervous and uncertain of himself, but he actually wasn't too bad with me helping him. I just hope he finds a better partner next time..."  
  
They both shuddered, imagining a future where Ron and Neville melted their cauldron _every_ week. "Promise you'll stay with me next class?" she asked.  
  
"Promise," Ivy agreed.  
  
They shook on it, then walked toward Transfiguration, smiling as they chatted about the Hair-Tying Charm. Hermione had it mastered before they reached Minerva's classroom door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was beta read by Adept Arcanist and GlassGirlCeci, who each receive full sets of ingredients for the Itch-Soothing Solution.


	5. The Restricted Section

Ivy sat in the desk at the front of the class, Hermione next to her, and stared at a match resting on the scarred table.  
  
It was her first Transfiguration ever. The first Transfiguration she'd ever been _allowed_ to do – her mum said it was dangerous, made her swear not to until Minerva showed her how. But now she was sitting in Minerva's class, preparing to Transfigure her very first needle.  
  
Why did it matter to Ivy? Simple. Transfiguration was a wordless discipline. To a lot of students, that didn't mean anything. To Ivy, it meant everything.  
  
Since she was a little girl, Ivy had wanted to make her own spells. And it all started with a discipline called freecasting, where spells were cast wordlessly and without moving your wand. Transfiguration used freecasting for almost everything. It was hard not to - Transfiguration was so specialized, you'd need an impossible number of spells to do anything useful otherwise.  
  
Charms would be important too – Professor Flitwick would teach the particular spells, when she got that far. She couldn't wait to take Arithmancy, the first class where she'd get to study composition. And Potions was also a freecast discipline of a sort, since potions could be freely modified and composed and torn down to the particles just like spells could, though they wouldn't cover that for years. But Transfiguration was wordless true freecasting, from the very first day. And so it was a little special to Ivy, at least until she got further on in her other studies.  
  
She was still only a first year. She couldn't do anything really impressive – no freecast spells or charms, no chained casting, no composition, _definitely_ no particles. But Transfiguration was natural, supposedly. No complications, no tricks, just simple, intuitive freecasting. And Ivy couldn't wait to try it for the very first time.  
  
Ivy lowered her wand to the match, and let her magic flow through it. It ran through the stick along the wood grain, lengthwise, and passed through to the match head like water through a sieve. The head felt spongy, but alive. She could almost feel the fire, waiting to break out. Supposedly setting it alight was a common mistake, so there were extras at the front of the room.  
  
Minerva hadn't given them needles to feel, but Ivy had tried this before. She knew what metal felt like, a cold expanse where the magic moved freely in every direction but just a little slowly, like molasses, drawn up against the walls by some strange force. The eye of the needle would feel interesting, Ivy thought, a place where the magic would whorl up and around through the thin metal.  
  
She closed her eyes, reached out with her magic, and tried to imagine it. To _feel_ it, the match shifting under her magic, becoming that cold, free-flowing expanse, that neat little whorl at the eye. Then she opened her eyes, and before her, at the tip of her wand?  
  
Lay the match. Still just a match. Not even a little bit silvery.  
  
Okay. Fine. That's normal. No one gets it their first time. Ivy would have to try harder.  
  
She closed her eyes, and tried once more to feel the match shift under her power. It took her a long time. When she opened her eyes and studied the match, it was hard to be sure anything had really happened – the changes were so small, Ivy almost feared she'd imagined them. Minerva hadn't been kidding when she said this would take them a while. She closed her eyes once more, and went back to work...  
  
Her eyes snapped open as Minerva's voice rang out in the classroom. "Time's up, class. If you made any progress, raise your hand. It does not have to be a finished needle."  
  
Ivy looked down to her own match, a smile spread across her face, and her hand shot up into the air.  
  
"Yes, Miss Potter, Miss Granger?" Ivy looked to the side, smiling at Hermione. She hadn't realized Hermione was making progress too. "Show me your needles."  
  
Ivy held hers up proudly, while Hermione by her side seemed a lot more nervous. Neither of theirs was quite right – Ivy's needle had two eyes, and a quick glance revealed that Hermione's had two points – but that wasn't too bad for the first day, was it?  
  
"Congratulations to the both of you," said Minerva, giving them a quick smile. "Class, take a look! They've almost gotten it. I haven't had two students both get so close on the first day in many years. Two points to Ravenclaw." Her eyes scanned the room, but no more hands raised. "Any progress from the rest of you? Even if you've only managed little patches of silver? No? Very well, class dismissed." She waved her hands, and everyone got up, starting to pack.  
  
Ivy and Hermione walked out together once more, bulging bookbags slung over their shoulders. "I'm sick of tying with you every class," Ivy said, smiling at her. "We duel at midnight!"  
  
" _What?_ " Hermione spun around, staring at Ivy. Who, for her part, just blinked. "Why? Ivy, t-that's not allowed! We'll get in so much trouble! And I didn't do anything!"  
  
"Er..." Oh, right. Hermione was Muggleborn. She really doesn't get it. Oops. "I'm kidding! I _swear_ I'm kidding, it's just a figure of speech, we don't actually duel... _that_ often, I mean... and I totally don't have a reason to and it is completely against the rules, and, er..." She shook her head. "Sorry, Hermione."  
  
Hermione stared for just a second, her eyes glistening just a little bit. "O-oh. Okay. Sorry I overreacted, Ivy."  
  
Ivy tilted her head as she looked at Hermione, a dismayed expression on her face. "You're... okay, right?"  
  
"Of course! I'm fine!" Hermione started to walk away, fast. "Let's go study, okay?"  
  
"All right," Ivy agreed, running a little to catch up with her. If Hermione was fine, then so was she.  
  
~~  
  
Ivy closed her freecasting book with a triumphant grin. "I'm going to sneak into the Restricted Section," she said proudly to Hermione, sitting in the armchair across from her.  
  
"What?" Hermione asked, fumbling her own book into the chair. "That—that's not allowed, is it?"  
  
"Er... is this another Muggleborn thing? It's not that bad, I can explain if you—"  
  
"No, this is a Hogwarts thing." Hermione was glaring. She looked _really_ mad. "Ivy, you know it's against the rules! You could get expelled!"   
  
"Don't worry about it, Hermione! No one gets expelled for sneaking into the Restricted Section, and it's not like I'm going to get caught anyway. Mum gave me Dad's old Invisibility Cloak. It's really good, no one will know I'm even there. And Uncle Sirius taught me how to steal the books without getting caught _ages_ ago." Ivy giggled, thinking back. "He said the books scream at you if you don't know the right spell."  
  
Hermione did not seem impressed. "So what do you want to _read_ in the Restricted Section, anyway? What do they even have there? You don't want to read about the Dark Arts, do you?"  
  
"No! Of course not, Hermione! I want a book on advanced freecasting techniques in Transfiguration, that's it. It isn't, like, _really_ Restricted, like it's Dark or anything. It's just a little dangerous – you're supposed to get a permission slip so Minerva knows you're working on it."  
  
"So why don't you just ask her for a permission slip, then?"  
  
"She wouldn't give it to me," Ivy said. "First years can't usually control it, so if we try it might go badly."  
  
"Okay. Sounds like that's your answer, then, isn't it?" Hermione looked unbearably smug.  
  
"I don't _want_ to try any of it! I just want to learn the theory, Hermione, I promise!" Ivy's eyes swiveled to the floor. "I thought if anyone would understand, it would be you. I've never met anyone else who likes to read as much as I do. If you want me to get a book for you too, I can—"  
  
"I get it," Hermione said, her voice finally softening, if only for a moment. "I understand why you might _want_ to do this. But that doesn't mean you should break the rules. Please, don't do this."  
  
"I'm not gonna get in trouble, Hermione, I promise," Ivy said, trying to grin reassuringly.  
  
"I guess we'll find out," Hermione said, a determined look on her face.  
  
~~  
  
The Cloak felt smooth and soft as Ivy walked through the darkened halls of Hogwarts. It glided against her skin, and only gently stroked the ground. It felt so natural to Ivy, she almost wondered if she could go to class wearing it.  
  
It was definitely a little bit strange being out after hours, but Ivy certainly wouldn't be able to steal from the Restricted Section with Madam Pince there. She watched the books like a _hawk_ , especially the Restricted Section.  
  
The library door silently opened, swinging gently at just a light push from Ivy's fingers. A chill breeze brushed Ivy's cloak as she stepped inside. The library was pitch black – she cast the Hidden Light Charm, another one Sirius had taught her, and then slipped into the stacks. She'd looked up where the book was earlier, and she was already more than used to navigating the Hogwarts library. She ducked under the rope and into the Restricted Section, moving quickly toward the book she was looking for. _Freecasting Principles for Advanced Transfiguration_ , in the far back row, bottom shelf...  
  
Then she froze in her tracks, and slowly, silently turned around. Standing _right behind her_ was Professor Flitwick!  
  
He was Ivy's head of house, and her Charms professor. Ivy liked him a lot – he was clever and very good at teaching. But she didn't know him very well, and she _definitely_ didn't think he'd let her get away with stealing books from the Restricted Section after dark.  
  
Professor Flitwick stepped forward, detection spells sparking from his wand as he peered silently through the books. Looked like her Invisibility Cloak was keeping her hidden... but if Flitwick got any closer, he'd bump right into her!  
  
She turned and tried to walk away silently, but when she got to the aisle she caught her foot on a stool, and it fell over with a clatter. Ivy gasped, and then started _running_ for the door. Flitwick heard her – of course he had – "Stop!" he called, but Ivy ignored him, he still didn't know where she was, she could _totally_ escape! "Petrificus Totalus!" Flitwick cast, and Ivy could _feel_ the spell splashing against the back of her cloak, hot and faintly tingling. But it didn't stop her. The cloak had blocked it!  
  
Ivy ran out through the open door. Flitwick was following, but he was far behind. Ivy made a left turn, then a right turn – then noticed a door ajar, to an old, empty classroom, and slid inside without touching it.  
  
Professor Flitwick ran right past, and Ivy felt her body relax. She slumped into the wall, wiping the sweat from her brow. _That_ was a close call. How did Flitwick even know? If Hermione tipped him off...  
  
Then she noticed the room she'd fled into wasn't quite empty.  
  
Quirinus – Professor Quirrell – stood at the other side of the classroom, staring into a big mirror with an ornate golden frame, his hat held loosely in his hands. Ivy winced sympathetically - his bald spot had gotten way worse. No wonder he'd bought that hat.  
  
"Why does it have to—" he whispered, his voice just barely at the edge of audibility. Ivy edged closer to him, trying to make out more. "But... but it'll be worth it. If I can really stop You-Know-Who from coming back—"  
  
Ivy knocked into a chair, and sent it falling to the floor with a clatter. She cringed – _not again!_ Apparently the Cloak didn't stop her from being a klutz...  
  
For a moment, there was silence. Then Quirinus jammed his hat back onto his head, as he spun around to see empty space. "Who's there? Show yourself!" Quirinus raised his wand, but his head darted left and right. He didn't see Ivy. She tried to back up, but she banged into a desk with another loud thump – "Stop!" said Quirinus. "Freeze!"  
  
Ivy froze in place, Quirinus just staring, his eyes searching the room.  
  
"Reveal yourself! Now!" he yelled.  
  
Very slowly, very carefully, Ivy pulled down the hood of the Cloak. "Sorry," she said in a small, quiet voice.  
  
"... Ivy?" Quirinus asked, his voice warming up. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Uh... I actually wanted to sneak into the library, but there was someone watching, and he heard me..." Ivy stared down at the floor. "Sorry, Quirinus. Please don't tell Mum?"  
  
"We'll see," Quirinus said. He still sounded a little bit angry. "Did you hear what I was saying, before I noticed you?"  
  
"Only a little," Ivy admitted. "You mentioned You-Know-Who..."  
  
"I did." He broke eye contact for just a second, smiling grimly. "You've heard the rumors, I'm sure, that there might be some remnant of You-Know-Who, still out there." Ivy had heard. She didn't believe the rumors – it had been a _long_ time since Voldemort was alive. But she figured there was no harm in looking. "I've wanted to find it and destroy it for years. That's one of the things I was doing on my sabbatical. Hunting for You-Know-Who around the world. Didn't find anything. I probably never will. But I can hope, right?"  
  
"It's a good thing to hope for," Ivy said. "Though... it also sounds really scary."  
  
"Well, I am the Defense Professor at Hogwarts, so you could say I like to live dangerously," Quirinus said, smiling just a little as he inclined his head. "But I would appreciate it if you didn't mention that to anyone. So, how's this: you don't talk about this, about anything you overheard, and _I_ don't tell anyone you broke curfew. Deal?"  
  
"Deal!" Ivy said. "Thank you _so_ much, Quirinus!"  
  
"I'm not patrolling the halls tonight. No need to apologize," Quirinus said, a warm smile spreading across his face. Ivy couldn't help but smile back. He was definitely the fun professor. No way Minerva, or even her mum, would have let her get away with this. "So, how do you think I'm doing in class this year? It's my first year teaching Defense, after all."  
  
"I think you're doing great!" Ivy said, smiling at him. "I really liked learning the Pop Jinx."  
  
"You would," Quirinus said with a grin. "You got it first." His expression got a little more serious. "You have an invisibility cloak?"  
  
"I do," Ivy said. "It was my dad's. Mum gave it to me the first day."  
  
"Good quality, then, especially for such an old cloak. I didn't see you at all." He shook his head, the corners of his mouth curling up. "Now I know how your father got away with so much."  
  
"You knew him?" Ivy asked, her eyes opening wide. Quirinus had never said anything about that!  
  
"Only by reputation, sorry to get your hopes up. I'm four years younger, but everyone knew about the biggest prankster in Hogwarts." He smirked. "I should add that Lily has made me swear not to encourage you."  
  
"I promise, I'm only in it for the books," Ivy said.  
  
"As any good Ravenclaw should be," Quirinus said, smiling again. "I am proud you made it into my House, by the way."  
  
"Thanks!" Ivy nodded. "So, what does that mirror do?"  
  
" _That_ might be overdoing it a little, Ivy." He stepped forward, between me and the mirror, and his expression got more serious. "It's dangerous. The wisest Ravenclaws know when to stop asking questions."  
  
"Then what were _you_ doing with it?" Ivy asked.  
  
"Nothing you should worry about. Just go back to sleep, Ivy..." He paused, looking at Ivy with an odd expression. "You're going to come back, aren't you," he said, his voice falling.  
  
"Maaaaybe," Ivy said, a smile growing across her face.  
  
"I'll set a detection spell on it," Quirrell said. "If you come anywhere near it again, I'll tell the Headmaster!"  
  
"No, you won't," Ivy said, her smile getting even wider, "because then I'd have to tell him that _you_ were here, wouldn't I?"  
  
"I..." He sighed. "You got me. If you're going to come back anyway, I may as well explain it now, so you at least know what you're getting into." Wow, Ivy really managed to call a teacher's bluff! She'd have to tell Sirius. He would be so proud of her. "It's not really my mirror, it's the Headmaster's, and I... I was just pepping myself up, a little. It's safe enough, if you can control yourself. If you look into the Mirror of Erised, it'll show you your heart's desire."  
  
"Really?" Ivy's mouth fell open. That sounded like one cool artifact. "What's mine?"  
  
"You can find out, if you want. I'll pull you back if it seems like you're getting lost in it." Quirrell chuckled as he stepped away from the Mirror, beckoning Ivy toward it. "Stand right in front of it. What do you see?"  
  
At first, Ivy only saw herself – or, rather, just her floating head, since she was still wearing the Cloak. But then, in the mirror, her body appeared. Standing beside her, hazy at first, was a man with glasses and shaggy black hair that curled just like Ivy's did. "I... I see my dad," she breathed.  
  
"With Lily? As a family?"  
  
"No, he's my age! And..." Ivy giggled. "He's got a _lot_ of Dungbombs."  
  
"So you want him as a friend your age? I wouldn't have expected that."  
  
"No, that's not quite right... you were just talking about how he was a prankster when he was younger, weren't you? I guess..." Ivy broke her father's gaze, looking down to the floor as she thought. "I've heard a lot about the tricks he got up to when he was older. But now that I think about it, I don't really know how he got started, his first year at Hogwarts. When he was my age. I could ask Mum..." Ivy giggled again. "No, she wouldn't tell me. I'll write Uncle Sirius or Uncle Remus instead." She looked back up, just in time to see Dad smile and fade away. She turned back to Quirinus with a smile on her own face. "I think I got it right."  
  
"Huh." Quirinus's brow was furrowed. "That's a very wise way to use the Mirror. I guess I didn't need to worry so much after all."  
  
"It wasn't that hard!" Ivy said. "It's like a riddle, just like the common room door."  
  
"That does make sense," Quirinus said. "Now, it is getting kind of late, so I am going to send you back to your common room, okay? Don't get into any more trouble."  
  
"Oh! Thanks for reminding me!" Ivy pulled the Cloak's hood back over her head. "Bye, Quirinus!" she said, as she ran for the door. He didn't follow her.  
  
She _was_ going back to her dorm, like he wanted. Just... she'd stop in at the library first. By now, Professor Flitwick was long gone. So she had no trouble snatching the book she wanted before dashing back up to Ravenclaw Tower, feeling smug in her success.  
  
Hermione was disappointed the next morning, when Ivy showed her the book and said she hadn't gotten in any trouble at all. Hermione said she hadn't told Flitwick, but Ivy didn't believe her. She wasn't sure what to do about it, though. Sirius would have unleashed the mother of all pranks on her, and honestly, Ivy was tempted. But something held her back.  
  
She really didn't understand Hermione at all, did she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my beta readers GlassGirlCeci, who receives a needle with two eyes, and Adept Arcanist, who receives a needle with two points.


End file.
